


I've got more than whiskey in mind

by SuchASeeweedBrain



Series: Whiskey in Mind [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bartender Alex, Confident Alex, M/M, No Aliens, Smut, different first meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 23:31:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21145052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuchASeeweedBrain/pseuds/SuchASeeweedBrain
Summary: Michael wasn’t planning on stopping. He really wasn’t. Except, he’s been driving for hours, from Houston to San Francisco and there’s still three hours to go and it’s dark, has been for hours now, and he’s so fucking tired and he really needs a drink and maybe to get laid, but that’s not a priority. He knew Isobel would skin him alive if he wasn’t there in time for her rehearsal dinner or whatever the fuck else you had to do for a wedding, but when he saw the light up sign for a bar in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere… well, he was not strong enough to resist the promise of a barstool and a cold beer. Or maybe some whiskey. God, he could go for some whiskey.OrMichael is tired and in need of a stiff one, your choice as to what that's a euphemism for. Spoiler: It's both





	I've got more than whiskey in mind

**Author's Note:**

> Posted this on my Tumblr last night, but it was almost midnight and I was too tired to put it up here as well. Now, I've actually edited it and done my best to pick out any errors.
> 
> This is insipired by the song Whiskey in Mind by Christian Kane

Michael wasn’t planning on stopping. He really wasn’t. Except, he’s been driving for hours, from Houston to San Francisco and there’s still three hours to go and it’s dark, has been for hours now, and he’s so fucking tired and he really needs a drink and maybe to get laid, but that’s not a priority. He knew Isobel would skin him alive if he wasn’t there in time for her rehearsal dinner or whatever the fuck else you had to do for a wedding, but when he saw the light up sign for a bar in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere… well, he was not strong enough to resist the promise of a barstool and a cold beer. Or maybe some whiskey. God, he could go for some whiskey.

So he caves, he parks his truck and unfolds himself from the cab. His back cracks and his knees crack and he feels approximately forty years older than he actually is. The sign is too bright for his tired eyes, so he doesn’t bother trying to read it. It’s a bar, that’s all he cares about. He pushes the door open and heads inside.

It’s midnight on a Monday (or he supposes it’s Tuesday now), the place isn’t crowded, but there seems to be a solid group there that look like they live here. They also seem to be packing up to go home. Michael says a little prayer to a God he doesn’t believe in. Please say he hadn’t missed last call?

He lets himself fall down on one of the barstools, he blinks at the wall, trying to get his brain to cooperate with him. There’s two people behind the bar, a man and a woman. They’re talking softly to each other. Michael feels his eyes go out of focus. He’s going to fall asleep here and it’s going to be fucking embarrassing.

Suddenly a glass appears in front of him. It’s whiskey. Top shelf. The whiff he catches of it smells like heaven. He looks up into two of the most beautiful warm brown eyes he’s ever seen.

‘On the house.’ The man says and it takes Michael a second to register anything beyond the way the man’s lips curl around the words. He’s gorgeous.

‘Why?’ Apparently, being exhausted makes Michael rude beyond imagining.

‘You look like you need it.’ The guy shrugs. The fabric of his black t-shirt stretches over his wide shoulders and draws Michael’s eyes to the spot where his shoulders lead into his neck, to his jawline and those _cheekbones_.

‘Thank you. How’d you know my brand?’ Michael asks, now that he’s raised the glass to his lips and taken a sip, he’s realized this is exactly his poison. The guy smirks at him, he leans his elbows on the bar, bringing his face closer to Michael, allowing him to see the specks of gold in his eyes.

‘There’s certain things a bartender can just tell about a man.’ The comment is laced with a suggestive tone that has Michael’s pulse pick up speed. Fuck this guy is hot, maybe he’d get laid after all.

‘Well, thank you. What about you? Do you like the hard kick of old Kentucky bourbon, or the slow burn of Tennessee rye?’ The bartender looked away thoughtfully for a second. Michael immediately missed the weight of his eyes on him.

‘I’m more of a tequila man. I like it hard and fast and a little _dirty_.’ The guy wets his lips and Michael wants to launch himself over the bar and bite at them. Fuck, it had been a long time since someone got him going like this.

‘Alex, I’m heading out. You’ll close up, right?’ The woman from before moves from behind the bar in Michaels peripheral vision. He swears he can’t take his eyes of the hot bartender, _Alex. _He takes a long drink from his whiskey.

‘Yeah Maria, I’ll close up. You go home, get some sleep.’ Alex says, looking at Maria over Michael’s shoulder.

‘Alright, later babe. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ Michael can hear the humour in her voice as the door opens.

‘Please, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do!’ Alex calls after her and a melodic laugh is the last he hears of Maria before the door falls shut. Alex turns his eyes back to Michael. His eyes are sparkling and Michael still wants to kiss him, really badly. He takes another drink from his whiskey.

Alex moves, but it’s further away and Michael has to bite his lip not to make a disappointed noise. Alex appears from behind the bar and Michael gets to take in the long lines of his body as he heads for the door. The way his thighs look in those jeans, the way his hips sway just slightly as he walks, his wonderful ass. This guy is like a walking work of art, an incredibly seductive work of art. The resounding click of the door being locked draws Michael from his musings. Alex _saunters_ back to him. He knows exactly what he’s doing, he has to.

‘I’m Michael.’ He says instead of “fuck me”, like he actually wants to say.

‘Nice to meet you Michael, I’m Alex.’ He leans against the bar, he’s really damn close, and he gets closer, bumping his hip against Michael’s seat. ‘So, what brings you through Roswell?’ Right, he was in _Roswell_.

‘I’m on my way to a wedding.’ Michael says, twisting on his seat a little so he could keep his eyes on Alex more easily. Some of the easy flirtation disappears from Alex’s face.

‘Your own wedding?’

‘Oh _no_.’ Michael says quickly. ‘My sister, she’s getting married. In San Francisco. Which is where I’m heading.’

‘Ah, that’s good.’ Alex goes right back to being the embodiment of temptation. ‘Anything else I can do you for?’ Michael can feel himself grin.

‘I don’t know, the whiskey is pretty good.’ He says, titling his head in the way that always works.

‘Well to be honest, I’ve got more than whiskey in mind.’ Michael wasn’t expecting to find a guy this forward in a small town like this, but he wasn’t exactly complaining. In fact, he was doing the opposite of complaining. He felt like his heart was jumping in his chest. He was trying to play it cool, honestly, but also, he really wants this guy and they were all alone now.

He holds on to the last of his resolve until Alex takes his glass from his hands with deftly fingers and downs the whiskey that is left in Michael’s glass. That is hotter than it has any right to be. Alex places the glass behind the bar with a smooth move that has his biceps bulging.

Michael would have blamed him missing the taste of the whiskey already. He was just chasing the taste of that. That is why he kisses Alex right there and then. That’s why he kisses Alex hard and deep as he stumbles off his stool. Alex makes an approving sound in the back of his throat. Michael had payed attention. Hard, fast and a little dirty. Strong hands tangle in Michael’s hair and pull him closer. Michael catches himself with one hand on the bar behind Alex and the other sliding up Alex’s firm chest, along the side of his throat and around that ridiculous jawline. Michael digs his fingers in the soft hairs at the nape of Alex’s neck and relishes in the noise he makes as Michael bites his bottom lip.

He feels dizzy. Maybe it is from the liquor on Alex’s lips. No eighty proof had ever gotten him buzzing like this. It could also have been all of his blood rushing south. When Michael has to lean back to take a breath, Alex just ducks his head down and kisses his way along Michael’s throat. It is like he can read him like an open book, he scrapes his teeth over that spot at the base of his neck that always makes Michael’s knees go weak.

‘Fucking hell.’ Michael groans. Alex laughs into his neck.

‘I’ve got a bed upstairs.’ Michael could have bowed out there. Should have, probably. He could have shaken his head and just offered a quick hand job right there in the bar.

But Alex looks up at him from under his lashes with those _eyes_ as he trails his hands down Michael’s chest, down to his belt. Yeah, no, a hand job wouldn’t do. He’d accept Isobel’s fury. He wants Alex.

‘Lead the way.’ Michael says. Alex’s grin is positively blinding.

He grabs Michael’s hand and starts dragging him through the bar, through a door and up a flight of stairs. Michael doesn’t have time or any desire to take in the apartment properly. His brain has zeroed in entirely on getting both his and Alex’s clothes off. Preferably as soon as possible. So as Alex is still trying to guide him towards a bed, Michael is already shrugging off his jacket. It lands on the floor with a thud that he really hopes doesn’t mean he just broke his phone.

He doesn’t think about it long as Alex turns and immediately slides those big hands with those talented, slim, fingers under his shirt and tugs it up off over his head. Michael immediately goes for Alex’s shirt. He drops it somewhere behind him. Alex doesn’t give him long to take in the view, pulling him back into another searing, heart pounding kiss. But Michael has hands, and he uses them. He tries to map out the way Alex feels under his hands, the strong line of his shoulders, the hot skin stretching over his chest, the soft bumps of his ribs under Michael’s fingertips and the flat line of his stomach. He wants to remember this. He’s been so hopelessly single lately, he’ll be able to use this encounter for months to come.

Alex seems to be about ready to move things along. He turns them around in a quick, smooth move and pushes Michael backwards. The backs of his knees hit the edge of a bed and he lets himself fall backwards. He bounces on the bed and watches intently as Alex _crawls_ over to him, hovering over him as Michael makes a noise he barely recognizes. It draws a smirk onto Alex’s face. Michael tries to kiss it off his lips.

It’s not long before Alex is on the move again. He kisses his way down Michael’s chest. He scrapes his teeth softly over one of Michael’s nipples and he _shudders_, fuck, he didn’t even know he was into that. The cold air that Alex’s laugh blows over the sensitive skin has goosebumps appear all over his arms. He makes an annoyed noise and tangles his fingers in Alex’s hair, he tugs on it just a little and it gets him a heated look from Alex before he dives back down to Michael’s stomach this time.

Michael is so hard he feels like he’s going to explode the second Alex actually gets to touching his dick.

‘I want you to fuck me.’ Michael says it without giving himself time to overthink it. He’s only going to have Alex for one night, he’ll ask for what he wants. Alex’s hands have frozen over the button of Michael’s jeans.

‘Fucking hell.’ Alex breathes out. ‘Yeah.’

That’s apparently all they need. Michael’s pants and underwear disappear somewhere. Alex fumbles around in a drawer for an agonizing five seconds before returning triumphantly with lube and a condom.

‘Do you want a round of applause? Get the fuck on me.’ Michael snaps. He feels like he’s wound tighter than a soccer mom in a suburb whose daughter wants a tattoo. Alex just laughs and he gets to it. Michael was right, those fingers are really fucking talented.

Michael whines, legitimately _whines_, when Alex slips his first finger inside. He hasn’t done this in a while and the stretch burns just as deliciously as Michael remembers it. Alex seems to know exactly when to give Michael a second to breath, and when to add another finger, or curl them in the way that makes Michael curse and squirm. He has to tell Alex not to touch his dick, or he’ll cum before they can even get properly started.

‘Why are you still wearing pants? Come the fuck on Alex.’ Michael complains when he realizes he still hasn’t seen Alex’s dick. That’s just unfair. Here Michael is, all splayed out with his dick leaking all over the place like he’s seventeen again, whining and squirming. The least Alex can do is get naked. ‘Get with the program.’

‘You’re really bossy, aren’t you?’ Alex smirks as he pushes himself up to his feet. Michael misses his fingers immediately, but he reminds himself he’s going to get something better to replace them. He stares shamelessly as Alex strips off the rest of his clothes. He’s fucking gorgeous. All tanned skin and muscles and temptation. His dick is hard and just the right size. Michael can just _feel_ he knows how to use it too. He should take a picture of him, even if it’s just to prove to himself he didn’t make this up. That this isn’t some exhaustion fuelled whiskey dream.

The sound of the packet of the condom being opened draws Michael back to the present. Alex uses his teeth, because of course he does. He rolls it on with a smooth move, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

‘Is that a problem?’ Michael asks, suddenly remembering Alex’s last comment. Alex smirks, spreading some lube over his dick before approaching.

‘Nah, I like a bossy bottom.’

‘Well that’s good, now get the fuck inside me already.’ Michael says. If he wants bossy, Michael can sure as fuck do bossy. He stays laying on his back, he likes missionary, sue him. Alex doesn’t seem to mind.

When Alex slides in Michael realizes two things. One. He needs to get fucked more often, because his toys back in Houston do not compare to this. And two. Alex really does know what he’s doing.

He gives Michael a few seconds to get used to the stretch a little. He’s hovering over him, seemingly without effort, even though Michael can see the muscles in his arms bulging. Just as Michael is about to tell him to get a move on, Alex moves.

He picks up a rhythm just on the right side of slow. It’s not sweet or anything like that, but it makes Michael’s toes curl and his breath stutter and the noises that he’s making aren’t ones he’s ever heard from his own mouth before. He wants this to last, he really does, but he also feels like he’s going to _die_ if he doesn’t cum soon.

‘_Alex_.’ He moans. Alex seems to read his mind, again.

He pushes himself up, now kneeling on the bed so he can get his hand on Michael’s dick without crushing him or having to stop fucking him. The first stroke is almost enough to send Michael over the edge already. He wants to be good though, so he bites his lip, hard and holds on.

‘God fucking dammit.’ Alex curses, as Michael probably clenches around him. He sounds pretty close. The little furrow between his brows would be cute if Michael wasn’t so busy trying not to cum yet.

‘Shit, fucking- Alex. I’m gonna cum.’ He can feel his orgasm building in his stomach. It takes just a few more strokes before Michael topples over the edge and he swears he can see stars. That has to be in his top five orgasms of his life. He can feel it rippling through his whole body.

After just a few more thrusts, Alex follows him over the edge. Michael wants to remember what his face looks like, but he’s too busy trying to remember how to breath and also trying to remember how to move his limbs. He feels boneless and now that the tension of his building orgasm has disappeared, he feels the exhaustion come sweeping right back in.

‘God damn.’ Alex says. Michael will admit he’s a little proud of how wrecked Alex sounds.

‘Yeah.’ Michael agrees. He should go. He can sleep in his truck for a few hours, get back on the road at dawn. He doesn’t want to move though. Alex shifts next to him, but Michael doesn’t have the energy to check what he’s doing.

He doesn’t realize he’s drifting off until Alex getting up startles him. Alex disappears from the room, but reappears seconds later with a towel. He carefully, almost gently, wipes Michael’s cum off his chest. When he’s done he tosses the towel over his shoulder in a careless gesture that would have made Michael laugh had he not been so damn tired.

‘C’mon.’ Alex pokes him in the side.

‘Yeah, yeah, alright. I’m leaving.’ Michael ignores the twinge in his chest. He pushes himself up with great effort.

‘No, just get under the covers.’ Alex says and Michael’s tired brain has trouble processing that.

‘But-‘

‘Michael, you’re clearly exhausted. Get some sleep, you can leave tomorrow.’ Alex says, softly but firmly as he moves Michael under the covers and rounds the bed to flop into the bed on the other side. Michael tries to remember any arguments of why he shouldn’t, but the pillow is really soft and he’s well-fucked and sated and he’s really comfortable.

The next thing he remembers is waking up with Alex’s arms wrapped around him. He reads the time on an alarm clock that’s on the bedside table.

That succeeds in waking him up like a bucket of ice water being thrown over his head.

‘Fuck.’ He tries not to wake Alex, but as he slips from the bed, he can hear unhappy mumbles behind him. He’s trying to find his jeans, his underwear. Where the fuck did his shirt go?

‘You can take something of mine.’ Alex says, the sleepy croak in his voice shouldn’t make Michael want to crawl right back into bed, but it does.

‘I don’t want to-‘

‘It’s fine. You have to go meet your sister right, you should probably show up in a clean shirt.’ Alex rolls himself from the bed rather gracefully for how sleepy he still seems. Michael wants to decline but his shirt (that he’s just located) smells awfully dodgy.

‘Alright, thanks.’ Alex, slips into some sweatpants before starting to dig through some drawers. He first throws a pair of boxers at Michael over his shoulder and then digs into another drawer. Michael refuses to feel embarrassed about the kind gesture. He hops into his jeans. Alex has turned around and is holding up two different shirts.

‘Alright, we’ve got two options here.’ He holds up the left higher. ‘This one, you could keep, I don’t really care.’ He holds up the other one. ‘This one, I want back.’

It takes him a second to realize what Alex is doing. It’s an offer. He supposes he could drive through Roswell again on his way back to Houston…

‘I’ll take that one.’ He points at the one on the right. Alex’s smile is blinding, and yeah, that seems like the right choice.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Comments make me squeal with delight!


End file.
